Of the Obsessed and Obscure
by Scrappy7082
Summary: She hardly ever sees him, but she knows he's there. Watching, waiting for his chance to strike. She knows it should scare her, too, but it doesn't. She can't be scared, not when his obsession is the closest she's felt to love. DxC. Rated T for language.
1. Idiots & Cynics

**Chapter 1**

* * *

For the first seventeen years following her birth, Courtney Mann believed she lived a wonderfully extraordinary life.

Be it her talent, her money, her mind—people always seemed to want what she had. Her parents were lawyers, and wealthy, successful ones at that. Her home had never been anything less than luxurious, her stomach never empty, and her free time always filled with activities. Piano and ballet when she was young, then singing and swimming and violin and martial arts later; her parents spared no expense to make her the most remarkable little girl the world had ever seen. Competitions in all sorts of things had been won under her name, and from an early age Courtney learned what it was like to be envied.

In high school, life seemed only to get better. She had always been a straight A student, studious as she was, and her teachers were forever telling her she could be the valedictorian of her year. Since sophomore year she had held the title of captain for both speech and debate and the tennis team; by the start of her last, Courtney had been elected class president twice.

Unfortunately, success often means sacrificing some other part of life, and for Courtney, this was friends. Many people were jealous, and those who were not thought her too bossy, cocky, self-righteous; her patience too thin and her temper too short to want to associate with her. Though she would die before admitting it, Courtney could probably count the number of friends she'd ever had on one hand.

And, for a long time, Courtney was content with that. Her actions earned her rewards; her rewards gained others' resentment. It was a cycle, however lonely it was, that she had long since become accustomed to, and one she had little wish to alter.

Until _he_ arrived.

* * *

It all started on a Friday afternoon. Courtney sat in her homeroom, the last class of the day, engaged with one of her classmates in a very interesting "discussion"—otherwise called an argument—about the court system and its prejudice against racial minorities. It was a subject the brunette was well-versed in, and once her rant began, she had no intention of slowing down. The poor boy had barely gotten a word in since the conversation started about five minutes earlier, and there was little doubt that she could have talked forever had there been no interruptions.

Thankfully for the boy, there was.

"Hey, Corrie?"

Courtney broke off mid-sentence, resisting a strong urge to bare her teeth. The words were spoken in a high, childish pitch that grated on her nerves and made the avid expression on her face morph into exasperated irritation. With a wave of the hand, she silently apologized to her opponent, motioned that he wait, and twisted to face the blonde sitting at her left. She failed to notice the boy fleeing, as soon as her back was turned, to another seat across the room.

Courtney was too annoyed to care anyway.

"What, Lindsiot?"

Twirling a piece of golden hair around her finger, Lindsay was entirely oblivious to the callous tone the other girl had adopted, as well as the sneer gracing her normally pretty face. She failed to react to Courtney's name calling. It was likely she hadn't even noticed. Instead, she picked up a perfectly manicured finger and indicated at something across the room, by the windows. "That guy is staring at you."

Courtney gave her a flat, disbelieving look. She didn't bother to check. It was probably some classmate staring at the huge-chested ditz herself, and the girl was just too dull to realize it.

A hand coming to cradle her temple, Courtney sighed, "Lindsay, no one can even see my face from there. It's not me they're looking at."

"No, I swear it's you!" Lindsay insisted. "Whenever boys look at me, they always have this funny look on their face, like they need to use the bathroom—" the brunette bit back a snicker "—but this guy isn't like them. He's just watching." She pointed again, more fervently this time. "Look, he's right there!"

The blonde's obvious agitation gave Courtney a slight feeling of unease. Deciding to humor her for once, she twisted in the direction of the still-extended fingernail to see who was supposedly staring at her, mouth open in preparation to find fault with everything the girl said.

The, she faltered. "But, Lindsay... There's no one there."

And it was true. The group of students in that corner of the room were all too occupied playing whichever geeky card game was all the rage to give either of the two girls the time of day. As far as Courtney could tell, there was no one else Lindsay could have been referring to. Suddenly more embarrassed than annoyed, she whipped back around. "Is this some kind of stupid joke?"

Lindsay seemed even more puzzled than Courtney. "No! I swear there was someone there." Making an incredibly vague outline of a body with her hands, she went on, "He was this big, tall guy with black hair and dark clothes!"

Courtney shook her head in exasperation. "Lindsay, that description is completely ambiguous. Not to mention no one in this homeroom even looks like that." In her mind, she added, _It's only the same class we've had since freshman year._ She couldn't say she was surprised. Lindsay's capacity for remembering, well, anything, was practically zilch. Courtney moved to dismiss the disruption. She put a hand down into her bag.

"But he wasn't in the room! He was standing outside the window!" Courtney froze as a distinctly disturbed sensation surfaced inside her. "He was there for like, a full _minute_ just staring at you, but after I told you to look, he disappeared! It was like who-doo!"

"You mean voodoo." But Courtney was not really focused on that. She was too occupied with the idea that this was a stranger they were talking about. Her forehead creased in concern.

Lindsay, of course, had apparently already forgotten the incident. "Voodoo?" she repeated blankly, eyes empty, before gasping and giving an almost inaudible squeal of excitement. "Is that a new makeup brand?"

Courtney let out a long sigh. She dragged a tanned hand over her eyes, hoping to shield herself from the stupidity. "No, Lindsay. It's not makeup."

"Oh."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Courtney was fast approaching the brink of explosion. Her bag contained nothing more than her dead phone, a Calculus textbook and an old novel from the summer which she must have reread at least four times. There was nothing for her to do except resign herself to observation for the rest of the schoolday.

The boredom was killing her. She had never realized how completely uninteresting her classmates were until that moment.

Just moments before she was to start hitting her head on the desk, Courtney felt a sudden tap on her shoulder. With enough force to crack her neck, she jerked her head up, sending the perpetrator a menacing glare. Subconsciously, she had assumed it to be Lindsay.

How wrong she was.

Gazing back at her was the sole person in the entire school who she considered even close to having her intellectual ability, if being also extremely apathetic, wearing his characteristic patterned vest, polo shirt, and cargo shorts. The boy was a genius in every sense of the word—and that, if nothing else, gained him some degree of respect in her book.

However, to respect someone and to like someone are two very different things.

Courtney's lip curled. "What the hell do you want, Noah?"

Noah raised an eyebrow at her tone. "Wow, such a pleasant greeting. I was expecting something more along the lines of: 'Go fuck yourself, Noah', or maybe, 'Go away before I chop your balls off, Noah', but you've surprised me." His words were spoken without the slightest hint of emotion, and for the briefest of moments, the girl felt a smile tugging at her lips. She quickly crushed it and plastered on a fierce scowl in its place. The last thing she wanted was for Noah to think she actually found his sarcasm amusing.

"Whatever. Just answer the question." He smirked.

"Well," Noah drawled, looking at Courtney with his unnervingly sly expression, "there's been a nasty rumor going around here... A rumor about a certain Latin hotshot—" she stiffened "—and a certain Queen Bee—" her hands formed into fists "—'hooking' up at Geoff's party the other night." He observed Courtney's reaction with some amusement for a few seconds before continuing. "As editor of the school newspaper, _I_ was simply wondering if it had any truth to it, or if it was just another gossip scandal."

Jaw clenched, the girl opened and closed her lips several times. It took a good thirty seconds for her to remember how to speak. "That," she said, voice dangerously low, "is absolutely none of your business." She struggled to keep her high-pitched voice from escalating into a screech. Taking a gulp of the stale classroom air, she forced herself to relax, then repeated, "My relationships, or lack thereof, are not of any concern to you or the rest of the student body."

Noah didn't miss a beat. "So, that's a yes?"

Courtney wanted nothing more than to slap the smug look off his face, but she restrained herself. There were too many people nearby to witness it.

"Okay, yes, alright? It's a goddamn yes. But," she paused to pull out a threatening finger, _"_ that _jerk_ and I are over now, and I do not want to dwell on a lost cause any more than I already have to. So, if you wouldn't mind, please just run along to your nerdy little friends and never mention this again. To anyone. Ever. Or else I'll—"

"Chop my balls off. I get it." Noah put his hands up in mock defense. "You know, that threat would be much more intimidating if I didn't know what a sucker for rules you are. No knives allowed on campus." He began to walk away towards his own desk, sending a taunting wave over his shoulder as he closed the conversation. "Thanks for the little chat, Courtney. It really was a _pleasure_."

Just as she was picking out a few choice words to yell at him, Courtney was interrupted by the sound of the bell resonating throughout the room. Teens and teacher alike rushed to the door, relieved to finally get out of the hellhole that was school. Courtney, still fuming, simply sat and waited for them all to file out. Only once the last of them had disappeared down the hall did she grudgingly get up from her chair, carrying herself and her backpack out of the room.

She would have to exact her revenge on Noah later, she decided, for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. And on her ex-boyfriend for cheating on her, and on Heather for cheating with him. And on Lindsay for being stupid.

A chill ran up her back. Courtney frowned, stopping to look around herself, and then shoved open the main doors to the building.

Yeah, she'd definitely be getting back at them.

* * *

 **A/N: (1/1/18) Another re-edit. Happy New Year!**

 **As always, thanks for reading and please review! Critiques are welcomed. :)**

 **\- Scraps**


	2. The Stalker

**Chapter 2**

* * *

By the time Courtney arrived home, the sky was nearly dark and her mood was positively foul. Her conversations with Lindsay and Noah had already put her in a bad state, and after having her hair ruined by the unexpected torrent of rain and being forced to detour around various accidents on the drive back, she was just about ready to murder somebody.

"Stupid people don't know how to drive, crashing all because of the stupid rain...Goddamn idiots," she muttered as she slammed her car door shut. Her scowl was as intense as ever. "How the hell they got their license in the first place is beyond me." Not taking care to avoid the many puddles covering almost every square yard of the sidewalk, Courtney let out a curse when she felt the filthy water start seeping through her shoes and in between her toes.

The lights in the house were off and the driveway was empty, but she had been expecting just as much. Her parents were probably still at work, as they always were being some of the most prestigious lawyers in all of Ontario. She hardly ever got to see them, but it didn't bother her much. They'd always pushed her, even as a child, to be as independent as possible. When she was younger she'd had a nanny to feed her and shop for her and take her places like school and violin practice, and as soon as she grew old enough her parents had bought her a car and driving lessons so that she could do such things herself. She'd had a credit card since she was twelve, used to pay for things like food and clothes and school supplies and insurance for her car. The only time Courtney really needed her parents was for their signature on school permission slips and syllabuses and things like that, and even then she usually just went to the old woman next door instead. Sure, she wasn't really a guardian, but the school didn't know that.

Not that it should have mattered. She was around more than Courtney's parents were.

The brunette hurried up the stone path to her front door, locking her car and hunching over to shield her face from the rain. She was sure what little makeup she had on must have run something horrible by now; she didn't need it getting any worse. She retrieved her key from her front pocket and, after fumbling with the lock for a moment, shoved open the door with her shoulder. Little droplets of water dripped from her the ends of her hair onto the white marble inside. Carelessly, she let her backpack slide off her shoulder to the floor. It was soaked through and her books were probably wet, but for the time being Courtney couldn't care less. All she was focused on was getting out of her drenched clothes and into a nice, hot shower. She took off her soiled shoes and kicked the door shut behind her with little thought before she practically sprinted up the polished hardwood stairs to the second floor. It was a wonder she didn't slip.

"Oh, thank God." Courtney's face softened with relief as she reached the bathroom. She quickly began peeling off her wet garments and readied a robe on the bathroom counter. The water from the shower was hot and steaming when she stepped underneath it, soothing to her stiff muscles. For several minutes, she just stood there with closed eyes and let the water run over and warm her frigid skin. The lyrics of some arbitrary song fell from her lips as she basked fully in the feeling.

Eventually, and much to her reluctance, Courtney forced herself to open her eyes. She could feel her skin starting to wrinkle, and as much as she didn't want to, she decided she better speed up the rest of her shower before she turned into a complete prune. Opening the glass cabinet and reaching for the shampoo bottle, she squirted some of the soapy liquid into her open palm and then vigorously rubbed it into her scalp. In her mind, she imagined she was rubbing Noah from the face of the Earth.

When she was finished cleaning up, Courtney shut off the water and took a tentative step back into the larger part of the bathroom. Cold air rushed at her naked form, and she shivered, fumbling to wrap herself in the fluffy bathrobe she'd laid out earlier. It was a little small, but she was grateful nevertheless for the welcome warmth it brought.

There was a sudden crash from somewhere downstairs. Courtney immediately tensed, her dark eyes wide, spine completely rigid.

There shouldn't have been anyone home apart from her, not for at least another couple hours when her parents finished work. It wasn't as if she had any siblings, and the maids only came once a week for a routine cleanup. Simultaneously worried for her safety and enraged that someone would dare trespass on her property, the young woman found herself at a loss for what to do. Should she stay upstairs and hide? Or should she go downstairs and confront the unknown culprit?

It took only a moment to decide.

"Oh, screw it!" A look of utter determination had replaced the relaxed smile of thirty seconds ago. "I don't know who the hell this person thinks they are, but they have chosen the wrong day girl to mess with!" Throwing modesty to the wind, Courtney simply pulled her tiny bathrobe tighter around her otherwise bare frame and marched out of the bathroom.

Walking down the stairs, the girl called out into the silence. "Who's there?" She received no response. Upon a quick survey of the room, however, she noticed that the front door was ajar. She gave a low groan. In her haste to get to the shower, she must not have closed the door properly. That meant it was technically _her_ fault that this person had got inside. She felt like hitting her head against the wall for being so foolish. Luckily for her, her frustration with herself only fueled her anger at the intruder for being there in the first place and she began to shout with increased intensity.

"I know you're in here somewhere!" A noise suddenly came from behind her. Courtney whipped around, gripping her fingers against her sides. She squinted hard at the dark hallway. "Hey! Come out here and show yourself, so I can beat your ass!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Courtney caught a glimpse of movement. Again she turned, even faster than before. But once more, the space appeared empty.

Anxiety crept up on her as she started to fully appreciate the precariousness of her situation.

Here she was, all alone in her massive house, while a possibly dangerous intruder ran circles around her in the shadows. She had absolutely no weapon other than her bare fists and feet, which would be of little use if he decided to pull a knife on her, or worse, a gun. It seemed like one of those godawful horror movies some of the kids at her school liked to watch, with the stereotypical teenage girl who runs around screaming until eventually ending up dead.

Of course, Courtney did not hold herself on the same level as those sort of girls, but still! This was a potentially life-threatening situation, and what was she doing? Taunting the very person who might actually be trying to kill her! Not exactly her brightest idea. And to top it all off, she was practically naked! If nothing else, she was asking to be raped. But, like usual, her stubborn pride wouldn't let her back down.

"Look, whoever you are," she started, walking slowly forward across the marble and trying to keep her voice steady, "I've had a terrible day today, and just so you know, I am _not_ afraid to take it out on you. All I wanted was to take a shower and have a nice, peaceful evening, but apparently that was just too much to ask for, wasn't it?"

She was met with silence for a moment before a sound not unlike a chuckle materialized out of the darkness. Courtney gasped as she felt something brush against her arm. She stood, paralyzed, for a moment before gathering her bearings just in time to witness a dark shape slip out through the gap of the open door. She followed as fast as she could, but by the time she reached the threshold they were already gone.

 _"He was standing right there by the door for like, a full minute just staring at you. But by the time I told you, he'd disappeared!"_

Courtney shook her head. No, no, this had nothing to do with whatever Lindsay thought she had seen earlier. The guy must have just been a really fast runner or something. No one could disappear like that.

Retreating back inside (and making sure to close the door this time), Courtney decided the first thing she should do was check for any missing items. Her first guess was that the man—assuming it _was_ a man—was a thief, looking for easy cash to get their hands on. Her house being as luxurious as it was, she didn't think it too far-fetched. She just hoped that if he had taken anything, it was some of the more novel, replaceable objects like cushions or vases; her mother would go ballistic if she came home to find any of her prized jewelry collection gone.

However, as she walked down the house's corridors and peeked inside rooms at random, Courtney was struck by the strange awareness that absolutely nothing appeared out of order. If this had been a thief like she thought it had, the place should have been utterly ransacked, things toppled over and broken and strewn across the ground. But there was nothing. Even the living room, where she knew for a fact he had been, was immaculate save for a few watery footprints here and there. Her bag and shoes hadn't moved from their place by the door, right where she had left them. It was puzzling, to say the least.

After checking and rechecking the building about four times over and still finding no disturbances, Courtney resignedly plopped down onto a futon in the living room. Her head fell back against the white cushion. The guy must not have wanted to kill her (she'd be dead by now if that were the case) and, apparently, he hadn't come to steal from her either. Which led her to the million-dollar question...

 _Why_ did _he come?_

Was it a prank? Was it someone from school trying to scare her? Humiliate her? If it was, she had to admit it worked. But it made her angry, too. She worked her butt off for those ingrates, organizing fundraisers for the new library, thinking up themes and decor for each end-of-quarter dance, and this was how they repaid her? A grimace appeared on her face. Well, there was no way she would be so _considerate_ after this little fiasco. They would be lucky if their upcoming prom even had _music_ , let alone the live band she had originally been planning on.

Stomach letting out a loud rumble, Courtney was finally forced to take notice of just how hungry she was. It wasn't surprising, considering she'd had to skip lunch for a class council meeting and otherwise hadn't a chance to eat since breakfast. The antique clock on her left told her it was almost seven now.

Courtney stood and, after waiting a few seconds for the inevitable dizziness to pass, walked over to the kitchen. She was disappointed to find little other than a loaf of bread and some leftover lasagna in the fridge, but quickly shrugged it off. She was hungry enough not to care. Throwing the plate of lasagna in the microwave and setting it to go for a couple minutes, she leaned back on the counter to wait. Her eyes roamed around the kitchen, searching futilely for something to make the time go faster.

It was only then that she noticed it. A small slip of paper, about the size of a post-it note and covered in nearly illegible writing, it stood out in great contrast from the black stone of the countertop; she wasn't quite sure how she had missed it. Curious, Courtney reached over and plucked it from the smooth surface.

She didn't recognize the handwriting. The messy scrawl was far different from the neat, refined style of her mother and father. The letters were a bit difficult to decipher, but with moderate effort, the girl thought she understood enough to get the gist of the message:

 _Hey,_

 _You probably don't know who I am. But that's okay. I know exactly who you are._

 _I just wanted to ask, do you always sing in the shower? You have a beautiful voice. I'd love to hear it again sometime._

Courtney's brow creased with unease. There was no signature, so she flipped it over to check the back. What she found made the whole thing even more disturbing.

 _By the way, I found your argument this afternoon to be rather entertaining. I'm sorry I interrupted it._

 _Until next time._

The rest of the page was blank. It slipped from her fingers.

She was being stalked.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm back! And it's only been what, a week? That's a record for me! :D**

 **This chapter was a bit longer. I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you liked reading it too!**

 **Don't forget to review!**

 **\- Scraps**


	3. Real

**Chapter 3**

* * *

In all the years since she'd been born, Courtney had never felt so tired.

She was pretty sure she was awake, though if she was, she sure as hell didn't feel like it. Her mind couldn't form even the simplest of thoughts, and her body refused to move despite her efforts. Even opening her eyes took several seconds, and once she did, she had to shut them again as bright light streaked through a gap in the curtains, directly into her eyes. Groaning, she rolled over to face the wall.

She had no idea what time it was, but she needed to get up. If her (albeit dazed) mind served correct, it was Saturday, and though she didn't have school she vaguely remembered her mother arranging for her to volunteer at the local food bank at noon. She probably just did it to get the girl out of the way for a few hours.

Not that that was anything new.

Calling upon the little energy she had, Courtney pulled herself into a sitting position atop her bed, her head spinning as she did so. She closed her eyes against the passing vertigo. Her stomach grumbled angrily, and it was the first time she realized how hungry she was-there was no way she'd be skipping breakfast this morning. Opening her eyes, she yawned and shook her head, then stood to let her bare feet carry her over to the window, where she peeled back heavy curtains to observe the late morning sky. Small puffs of cloud floated in the endless expanse of blue, hiding the sun and casting shadows down on the freshly-trimmed lawns. Nothing moved, not cars zooming down the street nor neighbors rushing from their homes in attempt to get to work on time. It was completely still, and the tranquility of the scene made Courtney feel completely content despite her hunger. A small smile found its way onto her drawn face.

But a minute later, she gasped.

Courtney's hands flew up to muffle the sound as she stumbled back several steps. The previous day's events came rushing back to her all at once. School. Lindsay. Noah. The rain. A man in the house. A note on the counter. It seemed like a bad dream, but one glance at her bedside table and the small slip of paper that laid upon it told her otherwise. With shaky hands she picked it up, and as hard as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to read it. It crumpled in her fist.

Sighing, she put her head in her hands. She couldn't tell her parents. They'd just brush it off as nothing; her mother had always said she was too paranoid. And then, on the rare chance that they _did_ take her seriously, they'd probably get the cops involved. And that was about the _last_ thing Courtney wanted—for people to think she couldn't look after herself, to be seen as the weak, vulnerable girl she definitely wasn't. No, she was just going to keep quiet, pretend it had never happened. She was strong. She could deal with the creep herself, if need be.

Not that she herself was completely certain it wasn't just her imagination. Who's to say it wasn't just a joke? ...Okay, if it was, it was pretty sick and twisted, but that didn't eliminate the possibility. Lifting her head up higher, she tried to focus on the somewhat happier thought. After all, why would someone want to stalk her anyways? She forced a laugh. Sure, she wasn't ugly, but there were plenty of girls—take Lindsay, for example—who were far prettier (and _dumber_ ) than she was. People like that were much better targets. Only a crazy person would try to come after her.

Though she meant it as a reassurance, the thought brought Courtney little comfort. She shivered as she glanced at the window. As she went to draw the blinds once more, her phone buzzed on the table.

She really needed to get ready.

* * *

Staying busy was, in Courtney's opinion, the best way to keep her mind off things. Like when she felt nervous about a presentation or got a bad score on a test, or after she lost an argument and was trying to cope without killing anything and everything that came into her path, or sometimes (and if she was beng completely truthful, oftentimes) when she was trying to ignore the fact her parents cared more about their jobs than about their only child. It was something of a bad habit, but over the years she'd become very good at throwing herself into her work when times got tough.

It was no wonder she was doing the same thing now.

"Hey, we need three cases corn and two green beans over at Station 3!"

"On it!"

Swiftly placing down several boxes already cradled in her arms, Courtney paused to scoop up five others from a stack in the corner of the room. They were big, and she struggled for a moment to successfully balance them atop one another enough to carry off. She managed it though, and, quickly but carefully, she made her way over to the indicated station. A dull thud sounded as each case hit the wooden table top. She turned to the employee, grinning. "Anything else?"

The woman raised an incredulous brow. The girl's enthusiasm threw her off. In her time working as volunteer coordinator, most of the teens she had had the _p_ _leasure_ (that's sarcasm) of working with in past had been whiny, apathetic little brats who tried to get away doing the least amount of work possible while still "completeing" the required hours. And, quite frankly, they made her life hell. More of a hindrance than a help, the woman usually considered herself lucky if they did even half the work they were supposed to; some didn't do anything at all. But this girl was different—she'd been going nonstop for over two hours already; her energy still hadn't dwindled in the slightest. It was kind of unnerving, but at the same time, it was a much appreciated breath of fresh air to her monotonous work routine.

She allowed a hesitant smile to form on her lips. Glancing at the expectant teen, and then around the room, she tried to think of some task to keep her busy. She tapped her finger with her chin as she started, "Umm...I guess if you want you can," her eyes settled on a embedded door in the rear wall, "take stock. You know, in the storage room. I mean, it's kind of time-consuming, but-"

"I'll do it!" Courtney exclaimed, loudly, and with far more vigor than she meant to. Her face flushed. Toning her enthusiasm down a notch and clasping her fingers behind her back, she reiterated, "I mean, yeah, that sounds fine. I can handle that." The lady continued to stare bewilderedly at her for another minute before shrugging. She scribbled something down on her clipboard and lifted a finger in the direction of the room.

"Okay, well, the room's right over," she heard footsteps, and looked up to see the girl practically sprinting away, "...there." The woman shook her head. She just didn't understand that kid.

Meanwhile, Courtney was stepping over the threshold of the storage closet. She paused to take in her surroundings. There were boxes and cans everywhere—lined up on shelves, heaped against the wall, thrown on the floor. She had to watch her step to make sure she didn't tred on anything. Shoving the door far enough to simply get insdie was a challenge, and as it shut multiple canisters toppled down and nearly bonked her in the head. In one word, it was a disaster. Her lips started to turn down in a frown before she remembered: this was exactly what she wanted. Something to keep her occupied, take her mind off things. She smiled at the thought.

She was in her element.

She grabbed a clipboard off the wall and set straight to work, sorting everything into piles, examining containers and discarding the damaged ones. Cans were moved to the shelves in groups, while cases took their place in an empty corner of the room. Things were counted, digits recorded, until eventually her frantic flitting about the room slowed, and she realized there was nothing more to do. The corners of her lips turned down. The clock read 4:30—it'd been an hour and a half.

Her frown deepened into a grimace. Her mother was expecting her in under half an hour; apparently there was someone she wanted to introduce. This had come as a great surprise to Courtney. Normally the woman couldn't care less where she went or who she associated herself with. She could only assume it was some important client on whom she was supposed to make a good impression; "better her chances" and all that. She let out a long sigh. They'd probably be a complete prick.

Exiting the now-organized back room, Courtney went to inform the overseer of her departure. The woman appeared surprised to see her still there, but nevertheless thanked her and accepted the offered paper and clipboard before retreating to her office, leaving the girl to stand awkwardly under the glare of the fluorescent lights. She didn't move for a few seconds, trying to stall as much as possible, until finally, reluctantly, she shuffled her feet towards the entrance. The sun was bright, and she had to shield her eyes with her hand.

Once the disorienting black spots cleared from her vision, she made her way to her car. The lights flickered as it was unlocked. Courtney reached for the door handle, her hand inches away, when she was startled by the sound of sudden footsteps. Instinctively she jerked her head around, but was met with nothing but the empty parking lot. Her brow furrowed, and a shiver ran down her spine for reasons she knew not.

She quickly shook it off. She must have been imagining things. Opening the door and sliding into the leather seat, Courtney buckled in and stuck the key into the ignition. The vehicle rumbled to life, breaking the silence, and she let out a sigh of relief she hadn't known to be holding. With one hand she adjusted the mirrors, the other resting rigidly on the steering wheel, before she pressed her foot on the pedal. She was so intent on getting out of there that she almost didn't notice something flash in one of the side mirrors. She hit the brakes so hard she nearly went through the winshield.

There was a man standing behind her.

Well, not so much a man as a boy, at most a year or two older than herself. His clothes, dark as his hair, stood out against his pale skin and she noticed something (what it was, she couldn't tell) glinting in the sunlight. He was simply standing, not moving at all, and staring, staring directly into her eyes. Even from so far away she could feel the intensity of his gaze, so pure and raw that she wanted to look away, but couldn't. In that moment she wasn't aware of how much time passed, nor how uneven her breaths had become.

Eventually, be it a few seconds or ten minutes later, the man moved to take a step forward. The trance was broken. Courtney exhaled sharply as she averted her eyes, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She noticed him advancing ever so subtly around the bend of the car to reach her door. It was now or never. Forcing the vehicle into drive, she pressed her foot hard down on the pedal and it lurched forward onto the main road, fortunately avoiding the cars passing by. She glanced back very briefly as she sped away, and was perturbed to find the lot deserted.

The man was already gone.

Courtney arrived home in record time. As she entered the house, her mother greeted her with all the distant and insincere affection that let her know their guest had already arrived. She was led into the living room, her shaking hand grasped so tight she was afraid it would turn blue, and tried to muster some essence of composure. For her mother's sake.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Okay, so yes, it's been a while, but at least I updated, right? Hope you enjoyed reading!**

 **-Scraps**


	4. Dealing with Pricks

**Chapter 4**

* * *

As Courtney's mother led her in through the doorway, a man—much younger than she'd been expecting—rose from the leather couch. Back straight and head held ridiculously high, he smiled. His teeth shone pearly white in the dim lighting. He extended a hand in greeting, but Courtney, still rather disoriented, just looked dumbly back and forth for a moment between his overly-friendly smile and the outstretched appendage. She tried not to squint. Hesitantly, she shook his hand. It was soft, with no trace of callouses. She guessed he had a manicure every Sunday.

She fought back a snort at the thought.

From behind her, Courtney could feel her mother's reproachful gaze. She had waited too long. The woman folded her hands primly in front of her as she cleared her throat. "Courtney," she began, addressing her daughter but smiling graciously at their guest, "This is Jacob. Jacob Caldwell." Staring meaningfully at her daughter, she went on. "One of the youngest and most promising defense attorneys at our firm, Jacob is son to Harrison Caldwell, who, as you likely recall, is co-founder of Markson & Caldwell Law Co. Jacob, this is my daughter, Courtney."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Courtney said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at the man and giving his hand a little squeeze, but on the inside she rolled her eyes. Typical. It was just like her mother to set her up with the son of some high-up, ridiculously wealthy businessman for the sole purpose of promoting herself in the world of law. Granted, it would give Courtney some solid connections for when she got older, but she was pretty definite that that was not her mother's main intention. Just a lucky consequence. Her mother cared about one thing only: herself.

Courtney had to struggle to keep a sneer off her face when the young man bent down and kissed the back of her hand. The tips of his blonde hair brushed her forearm lightly, and his hazel eyes looked deeply into her own. Though she tried not to, she couldn't help thinking his stare was nothing compared to that of the pale stranger from the parking lot. She nearly shivered at the memory.

Completely oblivious to the thoughts running through her mind, Jacob smiled winningly as he straightened and released Courtney's hand. "No, Miss Mann, the pleasure's all mine."

If her mother hadn't been watching her like a hawk, Courtney would've gagged. _So cheesy_. But because she was, Courtney forced a blush and averted her eyes as if flattered by the statement. She saw her mother's lips quirk up in approval from the corner of her eye.

Jacob (or _Mr. Caldwell_ , as Courtney supposed she should refer to him) retook his seat on the sofa, motioning for Courtney to do the same. Grudgingly, she did. Her mother snapped her fingers and immediately excused herself, just as her daughter had expected her to, to "gather some refreshments" from the kitchen. In reality, she was probably planning on spying from another room to see how Courtney behaved while not being monitored. She felt like rolling her eyes at the predictability. She scurried away with a smirk only the younger of the two could see, leaving them in a considerably awkward silence.

Courtney fidgeted to get more comfortable. The furniture was stiff and uncomfortable from years of unuse, and she sensed Jacob's eyes on her again. She pressed her lips firmly together. She despised small talk. Honestly, what could she say to someone she'd met little more than 90 seconds ago?

The young man next to her apparently didn't share her mindset. And she had an ominous feeling she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

There was a pause before he spoke. "Your mother tells me you want to be a lawyer." Courtney turned her head to him. After considering his expression thoughtfully for a moment, she nodded affirmatively. A polite smile rested on her lips.

"Yes, that's correct."

Jacob smiled as well. But this time seemed far more condescending, smugger than his earlier charming grin. He looked her up and down critically and quirked a golden eyebrow in a haughty way that made her blood boil. And not in a good way. "Well, do you think you have what it takes?"

Courtney pursed her lips. "I don't know what you mean."

That was a lie of course. She wasn't stupid; she knew exactly what he meant.

But Jacob wasn't ignorant either. He went on baiting her. "Oh, I think you do." His grin widened, forming one of those pretentious, I'm-better-than-you'll-ever-be kind of expressions. She wanted nothing more than to punch it off his face as he crossed his arms across his chest and continued patronizingly, "Your mother is a very influential person at the company. But just because you're her daughter doesn't mean you'll automatically get a position. You're aware of that, right?"

A low growl rumbled in the back of the girl's throat. She bit her tongue to prevent it slipping out. However, she was unsuccessful in keeping a look of pure indignation from taking the place of her previous smile, nor stop her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Ex _cuse_ me?" Her nails bit into the skin of her palms and she tried her best to keep her voice level. "Are you insinuating what I think you are?" She ignored his mouth opening to respond, cutting him off before he even got a word out. It had been a rhetorical question, after all. "I'll have you know, I am one of the hardest-working, most independent people I have ever met! Even if my mother didn't work at the firm, I'd get hired in a heartbeat. I don't need an advantage to compete...and win." As she glared at the young man, Courtney realized too late she might have just blown her mother's entire scheme to bits.

A moment later, she decided she didn't really care.

The blond, surprisingly enough, didn't flinch at her aggressive tone. He actually appeared rather amused. He replied to her accusation calmly, "Oh, I'm sure you would. I'm simply making a point. We can't go around giving out favors all the time; it wouldn't be right." His tone oozed scrupulousness, but the effect was ruined by the smirk on his lips and mischievous gleam in his eye.

Courtney narrowed her eyes at him. She wanted to point out how he wasn't one to judge, given he almost certainly got the job because of _his_ father, but figured keeping her mouth shut would do less damage. Furious, unfounded allegations wouldn't bode well later on. She settled instead for huffing loudly and crossing her arms.

Sensing she wasn't going to talk anytime soon, Jacob chuckled and leaned in, unfolding his arms to brace his hands on his knees. Her lip curled slightly in disdain as she did her best not to lean away from him as his face neared hers. The guy may have been an ass, but that didn't mean she couldn't at least _try_ to pleasant.

"So...now that _that's_ out of the way," he flashed another blinding smile, "Tell me about yourself."

Courtney grimaced. _Try_ was the key word.

As much as she hated it, she had to admit the man in front of her reminded her disgustingly of Alejandro. Ignore the contrasting skin colors, the two or three year age difference, and the fact that this dude was probably worth ten times as much, and they were practically the same person! Handsome, confident, manipulative, conceited little pricks. Courtney's eye twitched.

Good lord, this was going much worse than she'd hoped.

She cleared her throat, stalling for a moment, before asking reluctantly, "What would you like to know?"

Jacob only grinned wider at her curt response. He pretended to contemplate it. "Hmm... Well, your _age_ , first of all. Perhaps your activities, interests? Your school, maybe? Just the basic things."

Holding back an irritated sigh, Courtney conceded. "Oh. Okay. I'm seventeen years old, a junior at Fraser College Prep, and-"

"Fraser? That's where I went for my freshman year of high school."

A tight smile took over her lips. "Really? How nice. Anyways, as I was saying-"

"But my father took me out after the first year. Said the academic standard was far too low for a boy of my standing, not to mention most of the other students were complete invalids. He sent me to Meyers instead. Have you heard of it? Surely you have. It's one of the top in the country."

Heat filled her face. Despite that she often thought the same of her fellow classmates, it angered her to hear the words coming from another. Especially when it insinuated her among the moronic ones. "That's...unfortunate. For me, though, Fraser seems to fit just fine. And, yes, I have heard of Meyers before," she quickly added before he could interrupt once more. "A very prestigious school indeed." And snobby as hell.

He gave a contemptuous little "hmph". She could tell he was about to say something—more than likely offensive—back to her, but her mother strolled in before he could, carrying a plate of biscuits and a coffee pot in her hands. As terrible as it sounded, Courtney couldn't think of a time she had ever felt so glad to see the woman.

On the downside, her mother looked anything but happy to see her. "Jacob," she addressed the blond warmly, setting the items down on the coffee table, "Why don't you help yourself to some coffee and treats? Enjoy them while they're still warm." Pleasant tone never faltering, she turned to her daughter. Only the fire in her eyes betrayed her true anger. "And Courtney. I need to speak to you for a moment please."

Obediently, Courtney stood from the couch and followed her mother out of the room into the kitchen. On the outside she rolled her eyes, but inside, her stomach turned with apprehension. She was in for it now.

"Close the door please." Her mother didn't turn around, but Courtney did as she was told anyways; she could detect the woman's pent up anger lurking beneath the calm, controlled tenor of her voice. As the wooden door swung back into its frame with a dull thud, she mentally prepared herself for the verbal abuse that she was sure was to come.

Seconds ticked by as she waited for her to speak. "What was all that about?" The question was spoken quietly, but the young girl shivered as it echoed in the empty room. Her throat felt dry as she replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play ignorant with me, Courtney." The woman made a slow turn to face her daughter, lips pursed much the same as Courtney's earlier. Her brows lowered above slanted eyes. The volume of her voice rose slightly. "What caused you to act so inappropriately around our guest?"

Courtney couldn't bring herself to meet her mother's gaze. "I don't know," she mumbled.

"You don't know?" She let out a mocking laugh that chilled her daughter to the bone. "You don't know what? What you did, or why you did it? Or both?" Courtney didn't speak. "Well, you might as well forget about your dreams of becoming a lawyer then. I'm sure it will take quite the apology to make up for that sort of behavior. You might have just ruined your prospects out there, you do realize that?" The silence was deafening. "Don't you?"

Almost imperceptibly, the girl nodded. She didn't trust herself not to say something she'd regret.

Her mother wasn't satisfied. Slamming her fist down on the counter, she practically yelled at her, "Well, then _why_ on _earth_ did you _do it_?!" She glared at her daughter. "I risk everything to get you these kinds of opportunities! I could get fired for this kind of thing! _Fired_! And this is how you repay me? By making _me_ clean up the messes _you_ made? You ungrateful little bitch!"

The words stung, but Courtney was used to it. Concealing her true emotions was an art she had mastered long ago. With a carefully crafted look of indifference, she watched her mother as she breathed in and out, running her fingers through her dark hair and the red gradually receding from her face. Her breaths evened out until the woman felt calm enough to spare another scornful glance at her daughter. She opened her mouth as if to continue her rant, but abruptly closed it again.

"You know what? I'm not even going to waste my time." Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

Courtney made no move to go after her. She watched until the door fell shut on her mother's retreating form.

She felt numb, as she always did after she and her mother had a fight, but not sad; she was too exhausted to feel sad. As she sunk down onto one of the high-backed black lacquer chairs surrounding the kitchen table, she let out a deep sigh that filled the empty room. This morning the idea of someone following her every move had her thoroughly freaked, but now she'd give anything not to feel so alone.

Closing her eyes, she imagined herself anywhere but home.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I'm fairly certain some of you hate me for taking so long to update, and I'm _really_ sorry, I'm just so busy with school and all that it's been hard to find time to write. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll have the next one out around Christmas! No promises though. :P**

 **BTW, huge thank you to all of you who have reviewed, followed, and/or favorited this story so far! If it weren't for you guys, I probably wouldn't still be doing this. :)**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-Scraps**


	5. Follow Me

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Waking up the next morning, the first thing Courtney did was head outside for a nice, long walk.

After her mother stormed out the night before, Courtney had continued sitting in her chair for twenty minutes or so, simply staring at the polished wood cabinets until the woman returned. She appeared to have calmed and composed herself (at the very least, her skin was back to its normal shade) but her daughter knew better than to push it. She nodded at the news that "Mr. Caldwell" had left, and kept her eyes on the floor as she stood and retreated to her room on the second floor. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon stomach-down on her bed, batting the crumpled note between her hands. She hadn't spoken to her mother since their fight.

She didn't plan on changing that.

As she walked into the kitchen, Courtney snatched a piece of bread from the pantry and dropped in into the toaster. She purposefully ignored her mother standing by the sink with her phone. She then wrapped a thin cardigan around her shoulders and stuck on some sneakers sitting under the counter. Courtney didn't look at her mother once as she grabbed her toast and walked out the door. Her mother didn't spare her a glance either.

The air outside was cool, but not freezing; perfect for clearing her mind. The girl devoured her breakfast in under six bites before breathing in deeply. She didn't smile, but the wrinkle in her forehead smoothed considerably. She kept on walking.

Around a mile into her stroll, a long line of trees dotted with benches appeared to the right. The green leaves seemed to shake on their branches. Without a second thought, Courtney turned and headed in their direction, not even waiting to look both ways before crossing the street. It didn't matter though. The park was abandoned from what she could see, and the early morning roads were just as empty. Stepping up on the other side, she resisted the urge to hug herself as a particularly cold blast of air assaulted her frame and she felt her mind drifting to more unpleasant things.

Like her mother. Why did the woman try to control her whole life? It wasn't like what Courtney did would make a difference to her; _she_ was already one of the biggest lawyers in the business; _she_ didn't need any help bettering her career. Why did she even care? The idea that the woman's actions were simply out of love for her daughter made Courtney scoff. Her mother didn't even like her—there was no way in _hell_ she loved her. All she wanted was for the girl to be out of her hair.

The wind blew at her again as if in agreement. Courtney sunk down on one of the wooden benches to prevent crashing into a tree. She tucked her fists underneath her chin and released an audible sigh.

Most likely her mother just didn't want her to become an embarrassment. That was probably it. She didn't want Courtney to do something stupid and ruin her own reputation, and by controlling her life she made sure something like that could never happen. The thought angered Courtney. It almost made her want to deliberately cause a scene, just to irritate the woman. The corners of her lips flickered upwards for half a second. She'd be disowned.

Courtney lifted her head from her hands and shook herself abruptly. _No_. She shouldn't waste her time thinking about those things. She was supposed to be relaxing, escaping all the home drama, not getting all worked up over it. Standing up, she closed her eyes and stretched her arms out by her sides, letting her fingers flex into the now still air. When her eyes reopened a minute later, she felt decidedly calmer.

Courtney took a quick look at her surroundings. There was still no one else around, fortunately for her, but the sun was slightly higher in the sky than when she had first sat down and bathed the treetops in a warm light. The breeze, however, was just as cool. She guessed the time to be about nine-thirty.

The brunette hummed to herself as she started walking the paved stone path that wound through the grass and trees. Her hands were wrung loosely together in front of her; they bounced against her leg with each step she took. She let her mind wander as she watched birds flit between trees and clouds float across the blue sky and, very gradually, a smile took over her lips.

Several minutes passed in tranquility. Courtney suddenly became aware of what sounded like footsteps coming from behind her. They were quick and light, as if the person was running. Courtney's brow furrowed in confusion. Was someone trying to run past her? Sending a nonchalant glance backwards, she tried to catch a glimpse of who it was. She almost fell over her own feet.

The path was empty.

For a moment, Courtney just stared in disbelief. She could have _sworn_ she'd heard someone running after her just ten seconds ago. But, ever too logical to believe they had literally disappeared, she brushed it off as her imagination. She had been acting paranoid lately, no doubt because of the whole "stalker" incident. It seemed a lot longer than two days since that whole thing had gone down. An involuntary shiver rippled down her spine.

 _No, stop it_. She pressed her fingers hard into her temples. That was another thing she shouldn't be musing over.

Determined to divert her thoughts from dangerous waters, Courtney continued on her stroll with renewed vigor. Normally she would already be heading back home by now, having had her fill of nature and wanting to get back to studying for next month's tests. But today, she'd rather be anywhere than where her mother was.

It couldn't have been three minutes later that Courtney heard the steps once more. These were louder, faster than the ones from earlier, and they made her heart beat even harder in her chest. She didn't want to look back, afraid of what she would—or wouldn't—see. She picked up the pace. Unfortunately for her, her pursuer simply seemed to speed up in response.

Just as Courtney was considering breaking into a sprint, a hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Lurching backwards at the contact, the girl spun around, fists at the ready, only to came face to face with—

"Bridgette?"

The blonde, dressed in a light blue tracksuit and wearing her hair in her usual ponytail, grinned at her friend's baffled expression. "Hey, Court," she replied, pulling a pair of earbuds from her ears as she spoke. "What's up?"

Courtney stared at her. "' _What's_ _up_?' What's _up_ is that you nearly gave me a heart-attack! You can't just—just sneak up on me like that!" Pushing her hand to her forehead, she squeezed her eyes shut in attempt to calm down a bit. "I'm sorry, Bridgette. It's not you, I just... I haven't been all there recently." Her tone was apologetic. "I didn't mean to yell at you." Luckily for her, Bridgette looked nothing more than amused.

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's not like it hasn't happened before." She laughed at the glare the brunette shot her. "What? It's true."

Courtney rolled her eyes, but chuckled along with her friend. "I guess." Something coming to mind, she paused for a second, glanced around momentarily, then asked, "Hey, um, not that it really matters, but how long were you following me for?"

Bridgette raised a pale brow at the odd question. "I don't know. Maybe a minute, two tops. You were walking pretty fast. I had to almost sprint to catch up to you. I almost started to think you were running away from me." It was stated lightheartedly, but her tone obviously hinted at a question _._ Courtney pretended not to pick up on it. She wasn't sure she knew why herself.

So, she changed the subject. "Well, anyway, what's up with you and Geoff these days?" With some extra effort, she managed to add a teasing smirk to her words. "Have you admitted your undying love for each other yet?"

The effect was immediate and exactly as she hoped. Bridgette's cheeks flushed deep red, like they were stained with wine, and she stuttered incoherently to deny the allegation. Her previous suspicion had clearly disappeared. "Wh-what are you... we're not... it's not... I'm..." A momentary lapse, and then, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Courtney half-grinned. She'd forgotten how entertaining her blonde friend could be. "You don't have to lie to me, Bridgette. I _saw_ you making googly eyes at each other in the cafeteria last week."

The other girl's mouth dropped open. She lifted a finger in protest, "I was _not_ making googly eyes at him. I was just...admiring...his..." Bridgette faltered at the disbelieving look Courtney was giving her. Her hand dropped to her side. "Okay, I was checking him out. But," she added, with a cheeky grin, "you can't really blame me. He is pretty attractive."

Courtney rolled her dark eyes as the pair continued walking down the park path. "Yes, because wearing a cowboy hat 24/7 is so fashionable these days."

"I happen to think it's _cute_."

"Whatever."

Having run out of things to say, Bridgette simply huffed and was quiet for the next few minutes. But it wasn't the strained, apprehensive quiet Courtney had grown used to lately. This was comfortable, and it brought her the peace and security that she hadn't been willing to admit she needed—though she did need it, and rather desperately. With Bridgette she felt at ease for the first time in days. If there was a way to thank her without burdening her with the stress of the past week, Courtney would have done so.

She settled for grabbing the blonde's hand and giving it a squeeze.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey everyone! It's been a _reaaaaaallllllllly_ long time since I've updated, and I sincerely apologize. School has been killing me, and it doesn't help that my creative brain decided to take a vacation for the past several months. :/**

 **I'm also sorry for how short and uneventful this chapter is, but I'm trying to build up to the right moment. Don't worry, Duncan and Courtney will meet _very_ soon (most likely next chapter!). **

**Anyways, thanks for sticking around! Please review if you have any feedback. :)**

 **-Scraps**


	6. Unmasked

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"Hey, Courtney."

"Hmm?"

"What about...that one?"

Following Bridgette's extended finger with her eyes, Courtney quickly scanned the stocky figure dressed in military pants and a camouflage shirt. She snorted before turning back to the blonde. A look of amused disbelief covered her face. "You can't be serious."

Bridgette pouted. "Really? I thought for sure..." She trailed off and rested her head between her hands, mumbling to herself. But her disappointment was short-lived. Approximately four seconds later, she perked up again, exclaiming a bit too loudly for Courtney's liking, "Oh! That one! Look at that guy! You're bound to like him." This time she indicated a very tall, tan, handsome young man stood by the shop entrance. He was leaning against the window in such a way that one could practically see the abdominal muscles protruding under his tight shirt. Courtney guessed he was some kind of model. When he noticed the girls staring, he shot them both a wink.

The brunette did her best to hide her blush. She cleared her throat. "Well, he is certainly very attractive..." Beaming, Bridgette motioned for her to go on. "...But, not my type. He seems like a total narcissist." Bridgette released an agitated groan. She reached her hands out across the wooden table as if to shake her stubborn friend.

"How do you know? You haven't even met him yet!"

"I can just tell." Her tone was quite matter of fact.

Bridgette mimed pulling out her hair and Courtney giggled in spite of herself. It was an obvious over-exaggeration, and the former soon dropped her hands. She slumped on the table in defeat. "You know what? I give up. You're a lost cause. There is not one guy who could satisfy you." Smirking, Courtney opened her mouth to agree, but was quickly cut off. "That's why you need more than one."

Courtney gaped. As Bridgette laughed uncontrollably in her seat, the other girl slapped her none too lightly on the shoulder. She was appalled at the inappropriate suggestion. "Bridgette! That is so vile!"

Bridgette apparently begged to differ. It took another two minutes for her laughs to subside. Finally, holding her stomach and wiping the tears from her eyes, she straightened to smile at Courtney.

"Sorry, Court." Her attempt at an innocent shrug was ruined by the cat-like grin on her face. "I couldn't help myself."

Though she rolled her eyes, Courtney couldn't quite keep the smile off her face. It was nice to make someone laugh once in a while, even if at her own expense. She let her gaze drift over the walls of the shop, stopping when she caught sight of the clock. Her brow furrowed. "Oh, crap! It's almost one." She gave a sigh. "Well, Bridge, I better get going." She gestured at the clock as if to prove her statement before slowly moving to stand from the low wooden chair. The twinges in her back told her she had been sitting for far too long.

Bridgette did not seem to share her ailment. She sprung up from her seat, nearly falling over in her haste, to stare at the clock with astonishment. "Oh wow." With one hand she pushed back the earbuds falling from her hoodie's pocket. "I didn't realize we'd been talking that long." She looked at Courtney with her best puppy-dog expression, which was admittedly rather good. "Are you sure you can't stay longer?"

Courtney grinned and shook her head. As much as she loved Bridgette's company, she had to go back home.

Although, Courtney reflected dimly, her mother would be perfectly happy if she never returned. She immediately cast the thought aside.

Following a brief hug and a promise to meet up again soon, the two friends parted, Courtney exiting the shop with a small wave over her shoulder. Strangely enough, the air seemed just as cold as it had been at eight o' clock that morning, if not more so. She crossed her arms to keep in what little heat her cardigan provided. She turned right, then left at the end of the street.

An explicable sense of dread manifested inside as Courtney trekked farther and farther from the cafe. She assumed it was in anticipation of confronting her mother after the previous day's argument and the silence of the morning. Resolving not to speak to the woman unless spoken to first, the girl attempted to quash the familiar uneasy twisting of her abdomen.

Instead, it grew stronger.

In fact, by the time Courtney reached the park for the second time that day, the feeling was so intense that it nearly rendered her immobile. Every step was a stab in her gut, telling her to turn around and go back. At first she pondered it being loneliness, reluctance to leave behind the only friend she had, but Courtney was long used to isolation. She knew better.

It was paranoia. Paranoia of the same kind that had plagued her for the past few days, ever since the break in. Ever since she'd read that note.

The main difference was, this time, it was not without reason.

* * *

Stepping down from the pavement to cross the road, Courtney anxiously noted the absence of vehicles and people wandering the normally busy streets. When passing each alley she held her breath, waiting for someone to leap out and grab her. Every noise she heard made her jump out of her skin.

She was terrified, and nothing had even happened.

As she rounded the corner of an abandoned general store, Courtney suddenly tripped. She wasn't sure how—the sidewalk had no cracks—but she fell nevertheless, bruising her knee and scraping her hand on the way down. A tiny trickle of blood dripped from the cut.

Cursing silently, Courtney dabbed the fluid from the abrasion with her sleeve. She gathered her legs underneath her in preparation to stand back up, but before she could something took hold of her forearm and forcibly pulled her onto her feet.

All the oxygen left her body and her heart beat erratically in her chest, ready to explode. The hand didn't leave her arm. For the sake of sanity, she willed herself not to look up.

But, of course, she gave in.

The first thing Courtney saw were his eyes. Light blue, almost teal in the light, they burned into her with an intensity unbefitting a man so young. She was so taken aback that she momentarily forgot the grimness of her circumstances: forgot that this was a stranger, that she was alone, that he had an iron grasp on her arm. Like a bird in a cage, his gaze had her trapped, and escape was the last thing on her mind.

If it wasn't for him speaking, she never would have looked away.

"Hey." He slid his hand down to cradle her own, not once breaking eye contact. "Are you hurt?" His voice was low and coarse to her ear. A tremor ran through her body, the blood running cold in her veins. When she failed to respond, the young man gently brushed his fingers over the scratch that still stung from her fall. Courtney inhaled sharply. The corners of his lips flickered up almost imperceptibly.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a little voice (probably her conscience) screaming at Courtney: _"Run away! Hit him! Call for help!"_. But her legs were jelly, hands powerless in his grasp, tongue leaden in her mouth. For one of the first times in her memory, she found herself completely and utterly helpless. And there was nothing she could do.

Eventually, perhaps after a span of five minutes, she gathered up the nerve to say something. But the words passed her lips as little more than a breathless murmur. "Who are you?" Courtney kicked herself for sounding so weak.

A ghost of a smirk crept onto the man's face. He leaned forward and she caught a whiff of smoke. "What difference does it make?" A glint of metal caught her eye when he moved. With a ridiculous amount of effort, Courtney finally tore her eyes from his captivating stare to roam the rest of his face. She noted silver piercings—five in total, in his ears, nose, and eyebrows—and a shock of black hair streaked with faded green. Though stubble shaded his jaw, she guessed he was only a year or two older than she was. His clothes, much like the rest of him, were dark and unobtrusive.

To her chagrin, Courtney felt heat rising to her cheeks. The man was in no way ugly. She tried her hardest to remain stoical in her reply.

"I guess none at all." She pursed her lips and purposely shifted her gaze to the hand clenched around her own. Almost casually, she asked, "Can you let me go now?"

The young man smirked, openly now. "You'd run away if I did that." It was more of an accusation than anything.

"No, I wouldn't." _Well,_ duh _, I would._ "I promise I won't."

Apparently though, she wasn't very convincing. Narrowing his eyes at her innocent expression, he swiveled his head around towards her ear and bit out one word.

"Liar." The venom in it chilled Courtney to the core. She bit her lip.

"Okay, I would. But can you really blame me?" The girl gestured to their barren surroundings with a jerk of her head, starting to ramble. "I'm on a practically abandoned sidewalk, walking home, when some random stranger—i.e., _you_ —comes up and grabs my arm and doesn't let go, asking if I'm okay. No one knows where I am, I have no way to call for help, and I really have no chance of outrunning you even if I did manage to get away. At this point, I think I'll take whatever I can get."

For the next several seconds, the man just looked at her. Courtney was beginning to wonder if she'd only made him more angry when he suddenly laughed. It was a deep, pleasant laugh that almost had her smiling along with him before she remembered enough to keep up the stern facade. However, as soon as he regained his composure and his eyes, sparkling, met hers once more, the dam broke.

"God, you really are something else."

The distant noise of a car shattered the moment and he let go of her arm abruptly. Courtney nearly told him not to go. She caught her tongue just in time, but from the smug grin on his face she could tell he knew what she had been about to say. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and flicked it towards her, already backing away.

"See you later, Princess."

And then he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Wow, an update! Are you guys impressed? I sure am. Now Duncan and Courtney have finally "met", though Courtney still doesn't know Duncan's name or really anything about him... But, hey. It's a start.**

 **BTW, I just took my first AP test ever (R.I.P) and school is almost over, so hopefully my updates will become more frequent/better quality in the recent future.**

 **No promises though. I still have a life. :P**

 **Thanks for reading (and/or reviewing)!**

 **-Scraps**


	7. Unwanted Rendezvous

**Chapter 7**

* * *

By the time the red convertible rolled to a stop next to her, Courtney was still staring fixedly in the direction the "stranger" had gone. In her hands she fingered the little paper he'd left, flattening it, smoothing out the creases without thinking. She couldn't quite bring herself to read it; subconsciously, she hoped if she waited long enough he might come back to do it for her.

The sharp blaring of a car horn brought her back to reality.

Courtney jerked her head to face the car she had not yet noticed, stealthily slipping the note into the waist of her jeans. The paper was smooth against her skin. She was confused at first; she didn't recognize the vehicle, and she wasn't doing anything to warrant the attention.

But then, the driver spoke, and the blood began burning in her veins.

"Hola, _mi amor_. Looking beautiful as ever, I see."

Courtney made no attempt to hide her scowl. "Alejandro." It was impressive how much venom was contained in that single word, though Alejandro acted unfazed. "What do _you_ want?"

The charming Latino made a face and placed his hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "Ay, _chica_! Your tone makes it sound as if you don't want me here. But," he continued, frown melting to reveal a sly smile, "I know that cannot be true. You have missed me."

In that moment, his smirk eerily resembled that of another man with whom Courtney had been conversing minutes earlier. The crookedness, the pressed lips, the lowered brow, the innate arrogance—all there. Not quite the same, but strikingly similar. Upon further pondering later on, Courtney decided the difference was in the eyes. Alejandro's green were dark and conniving compared to the bright, smoldering gaze that _he_ had turned on her.

"How could I miss such a lying, backstabbing, manipulative snake?" A vicious snarl had curled the corners of Courtney's mouth, and she spoke in a dangerous hiss. "Why should I want to see someone who's stabbed me in the back more times than I can count? I'm sure Heather wasn't the first." Her lips twisted wryly, dark eyes flashing. "How many others were there, _Al_? Three? Seven? Fifteen?"

Apart from an occasional eye twitch, Alejandro appeared to remain composed. However, Courtney could see his facade faltering with each accusation she threw. His control was slipping, and his knuckles were white where he clenched the window frame a little too tight.

" _Chica_ ," he implored placatingly, "You don't know what you're talking about. Heather was...a mistake. A one-time mishap! There was no one else, I promise." He attempted one last charming grin. A lesser woman would have easily fallen for it. "You believe me, don't you?"

Looking at him in disgust, Courtney snorted, turning around. "Go to hell."

She heard the car door open and slam loudly behind her as she walked away, heard his hysterical yells following her as he stormed onto the pavement. The limited patience he had had been worn to naught.

"What did you say, _puta_? You have no right to speak to me like that!" His voice came closer. Courtney could tell he was angry, but her pride kept her from glancing back. Besides, it pleased her to know she was the one to make him lose his head. "Answer me!" Suddenly, Alejandro's hand closed on her wrist. Now it was her turn to get pissed. She whipped around to face him.

"You heard me!" She nearly spat the words in his face, not paying any mind to his temper. Her own was far worse. "I told you to go to hell, right where you belong!"

Courtney saw the slap as it came. Immediately, she ducked down to avoid it, kicking him in the groin and watching in satisfaction as he released her and sunk to his knees with a cry. Perhaps it was a bit sadistic, but Courtney felt there was something rather enjoyable about causing him physical pain. It was probably just because Alejandro deserved it.

The brunette stalked away with her head held high. This time, she experienced no interruptions.

* * *

Courtney turned the door handle carefully as she stepped inside and shut the door silently behind her. When she had arrived at the driveway of her home, she had been immensely relieved to find her mother's car missing, only to notice her father's was in its place.

This was a surprise to her; she had assumed her dad was off on some business trip or other, seeing as she hadn't seen him in almost two full days. Not that they were particularly close anyway. He was gone more than her mother was.

The lights were on, but her father was nowhere in sight, probably working in his office. The girl let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. It wasn't that she disliked her father; on the contrary, she much preferred him over her mother. However, he was a very quiet man and talked little. It was sometimes awkward being in the same room with him, especially when he was occupied with his work.

Courtney usually found it easier to just avoid interaction altogether.

The door to the kitchen was already open, so this time she didn't have to go through the painstaking process of opening it without making any sound. Removing her shoes in the living room foyer, she simply slipped through, grabbed an apple from the pantry, and pulled out a chair at the table. A crinkling noise came from her waistband as she sat. _Oh, right._

The note. Courtney couldn't believe she'd forgotten. After only slight hesitation, she withdrew the small, creased square and unfolded it. Her eyes widened.

Staring back at her was a sketch of a face, drawn and shaded with obvious care in grey pencil. It took less than a second for Courtney to figure it was her own. In truth, it was a quite good representation of her likeness, from the curve of her full lips to the seven freckles above her nose.

Courtney knew instantaneously he had drawn it— _Who else?_ —and while the obsessive precision with which he'd done so should have creeped her out, she felt nothing more than awe. How much time had he spent working on it, finishing it, perfecting it? How long had he studied her face to be able to recreate it so faithfully? She wondered briefly when he had gotten such a close look, but the alarming thought was swiftly brushed away. It was harmless. So long as he was just watching, it wouldn't really hurt her.

As if on cue, a prickling sensation suddenly surfaced along her neck and Courtney snapped her head to the window. She couldn't see him with the darkening sky, but she was almost certain he was watching to see her reaction. In fact, he'd probably been watching all along, or at least most of the time, ever since he'd "left" earlier that day.

Contemplating that thought didn't scare her as much as it should. On the contrary, Courtney found it rather comforting, in a strange sort of way, to know he was looking out for her, however unorthodox his methods were. A smile appeared on her face faster than she could suppress it.

Courtney cursed herself for being such a romantic.

At that moment, a creaking from behind alerted her to the opening of the kitchen door. The girl started, automatically setting her hands in her lap and sitting up straighter in her chair. Standing there in the doorway was her father, in all his silent, intimidating glory. He looked at her for a moment as if analyzing what he saw. His gaze soon rested on the paper clasped against her thigh.

"What is that?" Though he spoke quietly, the deep baritone of his voice seemed to resonate off the tile floor. Courtney purposely looked him in the eye and tried to ignore how her stomach leaped in her throat when she replied.

"Nothing. Just a picture." Reassuringly, she added, "It's not mine." She didn't want her father thinking she was wasting her time on something as frivolous as drawing. It was true, too. Courtney couldn't remember the last time she had drawn anything for entertainment.

Her father inclined his head in slight acknowledgement as he held out one massive hand towards her.

"May I see it." He said it as a statement, not a question, and Courtney passed it over without a second thought. For several long seconds, in his usual thorough way, the man examined the portrait. He didn't offer it back when he was done. Instead, he chose to stare critically, penetratingly, at his daughter until Courtney felt a strong urge to curl up into a ball and hide. Though, of course, her pride would never allow that. She pulled her shoulders back ever so slightly and said nothing.

Her father eventually turned his gaze back to the picture. When he spoke, he sounded almost...thoughtful. Nostalgic was not the appropriate word. "It is very well done; a near exact recreation." With a hint of interest, he inquired, "Who drew it?"

Courtney was taken aback, not being prepared with an answer. She couldn't tell the truth; even if she did know the strange young man's name, she couldn't explain her relationship to him. She stuttered momentarily as she thought up a reply. "Oh, uh, that was Bridgette." The man raised a brow at her hesitation, so she elaborated to seem more convincing. "We met for coffee today and she asked if she could draw me. For practice, for her art class."

There was a deafening lull. "Interesting." Mr. Mann clearly didn't believe her, but he wasn't the type to pry. The paper went into his pants' pocket. "Well, good night." Business done, he retreated towards his study.

"Good night." The door fell shut with a thud. Once more, Courtney was left sitting in her chair, alone, with not even the drawing to distract her from solitude. She finally remembered the apple on the table in front of her. Grabbing at it greedily and taking one bite, then another, the fruit soon disappeared, save for the stem; but the empty feeling in her abdomen had not lessened.

Courtney knew it wasn't just hunger.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thanks for reading! Please review if you liked it, or even if you didn't, tell me what to improve. :)**

 **-Scraps**

 **(BTW, I will likely be editing this and earlier chapters of this story at some point in the future, so watch out for those updates too.)**


End file.
